Jasmine’s Style

(Via Google Images)

Since “Blue Jasmine” premiered in 2013 Jasmine’s clothes aren’t totally on trend anymore. She had a very classic style but even so I think her look is still at least a teeny bit dated in 2020.

Just for fun here’s a semi update:

Hey! Hey you there. Yeah. You.

*clearing throat*

FYI I look through social media sometimes for fun and to keep up with the fragrance community online. By accident I sometimes see some of the most obvious hints that there are many “haters” still reading this blog and reacting to it online. Let me be clear: I know you’re all mostly just delusional or liars. And, you all probably realize at least on some level that I’m not.

A lot of you will try to find some way to mock or belittle me, especially after this post, but if you have any control over your egos and hurt pride, can you maybe just stop reading this blog? Seriously.

I respected you as people. I’m an honest and respectful person. And I had even respected a lot of you as experts, artists or aficionados. But you seem to have wanted even more than that. And I’m sorry I couldn’t be as impressed by you as you wanted. Or I’m sorry I didn’t give you the constant accolades, blind acceptance, or admiration you apparently thought you were entitled to.

You don’t sound smart anymore. You don’t sound professional. You sound like a lot of fake, insecure, obsessive and rather stupid twats. Actually it’s depressing. You’re degrading yourselves and people see through you so much more than you fool yourself into believing (or they let you think). You’re even making whatever you have accomplished through honest means seem suspect.

Don’t. It’s not worth it. You can’t keep trying to hurt me or prove me wrong without only hurting yourself or looking ill or guilty in some way. There isn’t anything to prove.

It’s time to move on. Stop reading this blog or unfollow me if you need to. I won’t be offended if you don’t read my blog or unsubscribe.

And if you keep reading please know I truly don’t take you seriously anymore. If I read another passive attack I’m going to just start to think that you must be genuinely far beneath me to some truly tragic degree and not just that you’re reasonably insecure. *shrug* It’s embarrassing to watch.

Stop.

West End Blues

“Oh Jasmine, your country house is so beautiful!”

Jasmine French In Woody Allen’s 2013 film “Blue Jasmine” is a Disney princess in the pejorative sense…and a sort of golden creature in the kindest sense.

I think when a lot of people think of “rich people” in the upper-class they imagine someone like Jasmine. And, maybe if she had a tiara and a castle…well…she’d be what people think it is to be an actual princess.

Louboutins, the perfect Birkin and hair that’s so…utterly…breathtakingly perfect it challenges one to almost claim there’s scientific proof of God’s existence. And her engagement ring?!? Good golly… It was otherworldly.

“It’s like something you’d see in a movie!” exclaimed Augie upon entering her Park Avenue penthouse.

But jasmine was…a flower without a bed. She had never been firmly planted anywhere. And when her gig as the Stepford Wife for a wealthy white-collar criminal ended she didn’t know where to replant herself. Even her adopted family from childhood was unstable.

Still, Jasmine had innately good taste. She made wearing an oversized diamond seem appropriate through her innate appropriateness. Perhaps that shining, sleek and tranquil decency (?) was partially why her husband used her as his wife for as long as he did. She had none of the family to back-up her honor but all of the “class”.

Regardless, her life of elegant civic engagement, noblesse oblige, and almost excessive luxury was…grand. Extremely impressive. But, Manhattan can support and purifying that kind of abundance in a way that almost nowhere else does or can. Kind of perfect for Jasmine actually… That was her real home if she ever had one.

*sigh*

If you want to see how both lovely and miserable it must be to be a real princess perhaps Audrey Hepburn’s portrayal in “Roman Holiday” (1953) is a better bet. In that masterpiece a young princess literally runs away in the night from her duties as royalty to try to “find herself” and actually enjoy her life. I suspect that’s indicative of the sort of cloistered misery one lives with with being genuinely royal. And I’m sure it’s wonderful to be royal but maybe not in the way Jasmine’s life was… Maybe. *shrug* I wonder if Meghan the Duchess of Sussex has ever seen that film. And I mean that in a sincerely good and thoughtful way…

I suppose that does beg the question though of why any country would want a true hereditary monarchy but that’s such a profoundly difficult and deep discussion and I won’t attempt to do that in this post…

But I’ve never been a princess. I’ve also never been a flapper. A man. My experience on this Earth is limited just like everyone else’s is. When I discuss flappers and European Royalty I am speaking from either observation or from my fascination with history since childhood, subsequent study of it in college and continued fascination afterwards.

I do think it’s more than remotely possible I was a child in the 1920’s if I was reincarnated. I may have seen real flappers in person (even smelled them)… Perhaps I even wished I could be one. But, based on the spiritual research I’ve done (feel free to think that’s total nonsense if you want) I was too young. Again, I’m a Christian but I wonder sometimes if reincarnation was almost entirely written out of the Bible?

Anyway…that’s another very complex discussion. And let me be clear: Just because I don’t spell out everything I’m alluding to or mean all at once doesn’t show that I’m ignorant or unaware. I often say too little when I fear there’s too much to say well. It’s one of my weaknesses as a writer and communicator in general and I’m working on it.

I think I was possibly a professional dancer though (in musicals)… And maybe that’s my problem as a writer. I really just want to dance. Words come together to form thoughts and opinions so slowly and when something is very complex it can leave you feeling easily tongue-tied with frustration. It’s easy to cut thoughts short for the sake of emotional impact. Dancing lets me both feel and express in a more uninhibited way.

(In this life) When I was little I wanted dancing lessons but my mom felt it was in bad taste and dangerous. She worried I’d eventually want to model or do pageants or who knows what… And she didn’t want me to be taken advantage of. So I just twirled around our living room and changed outfits over and over and over again. Once I spun so fast that I twirled full force into the corner of our entertainment center and had to have stitches. I still have a scar.

But no, I’m not a princess now and never have been one. Or a flapper…

Do you know how much money Jasmine must have had to live a life like she did? How much of other people’s money? …Gosh. They must have had at least $100 million net. At least. Just her home on Martha’s Vineyard must have been worth around $20 million? Her penthouse another $20 to 30 million?

*smile*

I’ve never personally been that rich dearies… Maybe a little aristocratic. Maybe upper class. But…I’ve never been…any sort of princess. *smile*

(Via Google Images)

Cute

Being an actual princess isn’t the same thing as being one in a Disney movie. In real life it’s a difficult existence. Sure there are glamorous perks but it’s not the cake, champagne and Hermès bags that many Americans foolishly think it is (or a lot of other people from around dither world too, I suppose). Black Americans. White Americans. Hispanic Americans… Asian Americans… Asian-Pacific Islander Americans… Indian Americans… Indigenous Americans… Americans of Middle-Eastern heritage. American Jews. Catholics.

Most Americans don’t get it.

Meghan Markle wasn’t prepared to be a Duchess. Period. She probably had some naïve ideas just like most of her compatriots and fell in love with the beautiful man of her dreams (and ambitions) and thought, “Yes! This will be amazing!” But…I really don’t think she had a clue what sort of situation she was really getting herself into.

She probably seemed awkward and offensive from the start to the British because she’s…not British. Not necessarily about color totally. Not necessarily? And people resented her.

If anything I’d bet it’s about cultural history, pride (not always tied to racism for the Puritan pseudo-intellectual crowd) and…more than that: Class.

…But… Racism is a powerful weapon. People wanted her to…go? Nobody likes to have another person’s opinions shoved down their throat in their own home without consent and…albeit cowardly and very dishonest I think people were really just snubbing Meghan using the dirtiest and most vile technique they could think of. The easiest too. The meanest. And…it worked.

“How dare you steal our prince you uppity, spoiled, conceited little American actress! This is our country. He’s our prince. Who the hell do you think you are coming here with so much self-righteous self-importance?!”

But honestly I think she should have stayed. If you click the link above you’ll get Elizabeth Wellington’s take. And as much as I respect Ms. Wellington I disagree… And find her piece depressing. *sigh* A lot of very respectable women would have stayed Ms. Wellington. And…all Meghan does by leaving and still benefiting from the crown indirectly is reinforce every racist stereotype that’s been used against her. Every anti-American stereotype that’s been used against her. *shaking head*

No. With the British you keep a stiff upper-lip, wait 40 years and make them eat their words if they’re wrong. Or, you might just need to realize that you’re not in your own country and try to genuinely assimilate. Leaving is admitting to being wrong or being somehow mistaken.

*sigh*

But…I am just American too. Right. What do I know?

*shrug*

Eau de Cologne Hermès (Repost)


Eau de Cologne Hermès (Hermès 1979) is bitter, fresh…and herbal. Perfectly blended. The orange is sublime and mixes with rosemary, basil, exquisite neroli and cedar to create an earthy and serene scent. I can’t imagine a better fragrance for a warm day to feel collected and at ease… It’s more uplifting and bright than many similar classic floral and herbal fragrances but with the same elegance and depth.  

Top notes: papaya, mandarin orange, coriander, mango, mint, lemon, bergamot, and basil.  Middle notes: neroli, orange leaf, lily-of-the-valley, lavender, honeysuckle, and rosemary.  Base notes: cedar, oakmoss, musk, patchouli and sandalwood.  

Nose: Françoise Caron 

Curious

In 2005 I met a dear young lady who became my closest friend in college. I had other close friends but she was probably the closest. We’ll call her Sarah.

Anyway, even though she was lovely and very smart and well bred too, she had been homeschooled and was quite painfully shy. And Sarah had a roommate who was a sort of early 2000’s flapper. Flapper again? Why yes. Sometimes things repeat themselves and if necessary so do I…

This Millennial flapper had platinum blond hair, a lot of sass, a face that actually resembled Baby Spice (from the Spice Girls) and a boyfriend who pretty much lived for her. She’d text him frequently throughout the day about even minor occurrences and he’d relish every drop of her golden attention. Years later they were married.

Sarah was in awe of her.

Once when I was in their room I took a long glance at the flapper’s side and noticed Britney Spears Curious sitting on the flapper’s dresser. I picked it up and smelled it. Looking back I shouldn’t have done that as it wasn’t mine, but it was such a captivating tourquoise bottle and well…I was very curious. Ha! I also had no intention of using it.

It shocked me. Back in 2005 my nose wasn’t prepared for the combination of bitter and sweet. The musk, lotus, tuberose and pear? It’s a feisty and sexy gourmand and bold gourmands were still a relatively new thing back then. The 2000’s took gourmand to a new level.

“Why does she want to smell like that? I’m sorry, but that’s not really all that pretty.” I mused. “Oof!”

“I know!” Sarah answered with a smile. “But golly, does her boyfriend adore her!” She sighed deeply and plopped herself down on her bed.

“Huh.” I felt wonderfully perplexed. There was something in the notes that I didn’t understand because I knew this fragrance was very popular. People loved it for a reason. And, I realized that some magic was performed by her wearing it because she wore it a lot. I even suspected that it actually may have made her boyfriend love her all the more. Yes. Something as simple as her perfume. He “loved her for her” I’m sure, but I’m also sure he associated this fragrance with her and… Well…

Sarah continued, “She’s a mystery. Oh! She’s soo beautiful.” She shook her head.

Their room was filled with glitter and pop culture on the flapper’s side and lady-like elegance, taste and frugality on Sarah’s side. Sarah’s side reminded me of my Shalimar, tea and…sadness. Beautiful too actually. …But the flapper’s side was…alive. So damn alive.

Top notes: Magnolia, pear and lotus. Middle notes: Tuberose, jasmine and cyclamen. Base notes: Sandalwood, vanilla, white woods and musk.

Floozie (rant continued)

Yesterday I used the word floozie. What’s a floozie though? According to the online Oxford Dictionary it’s: “A girl or a woman who has many casual sexual encounters or relationships.”

I’ve only been with my husband and one other guy. In today’s world that’s a very low number for a 36 year old, and frankly I wish I’d only been with my husband.

Actually, I even told my step mother-in-law that years ago and her response was, “Well, and that’s the way it’s supposed to be.” But…I accidentally offended her after that by not responding to one of her emails fast enough and that’s when she accused my family of being criminals.

Well…first she claimed I was after Mark’s money and “just wanted to be taken care of like his [birth] mother.” (the first wife) And when I told her I was from a family that had money within it and if I really was that terribly desperate I’d ask a relative before I’d ever asked Mark, my then boyfriend, for money her response to that was that my family must have stolen the money they have from people who earned it, like Mark. And…I. Have. No. Idea. Why. *pause*

No, really. There are people reading this who may cling to the hope that my step-mother-in-law picked up on subtle clues and figured my family out, but truly, that’s so profoundly not who we are that it’s mind-bending to even try to untangle why she came up with that out of nowhere when I tried to defend my intentions with her step son-in-law and explain her error in perception overall. There’s a reason an election for President of the United States rested in small part on the honor of one of my cousins as an elector (and they nobly did their job). And that’s just one very small example of how absurd the whole thing was for her to say.

I mean…I do have plantation owners and aristocracy in my lineage but…how in the world did she know that before she even met me?!?! I mean. Did Mark’s father do an investigation of me and my entire family before I went for Thanksgiving Dinner back then? I find that very unlikely. They claimed not to even have realized how serious he was about me at that time… *shrug* And regardless her ignorant hatred about my family’s history should have been openly discussed and acknowledged if so. Besides, that’s just one line, not everyone. Not my entire ancestry or family. …But maybe she was too intimated to be honest about what she meant? Too worried about being proven wrong? Or maybe she was just confessing her own sins??? *shrug*

But she does have an at least well-off sister who also married well and sent her kids to East Coast prep schools. And there’s a famous and extremely well-regarded horse trainer in her family. …Yet…she also grew up on a farm in Tennessee and went to the local state school for college…and then sold baby wipes. I know that part about baby wipes because my husband told me. She just bragged about how accomplished at sales she was before she decided to “focus on being a mom” and not work. She even said that she should have been the top regional salesperson but it was dishonestly given to a man. Nothing… about…baby wipes. Baby wipes. Umm…

We’ve sold honey to governors and local folks alike (the governor drove out of his way to buy it), we’ve sold our crops from our well tended and laborious fields, and we’ve worked at retail jobs that have sold things like clothes or organic food or coffee… Cars. Cattle. Oil. Words on a page. Gold. Land. Stocks. *thinking face* Labor for corporations that use our minds, knowledge and experience to profit. Some people have cleaned houses for friends or neighbors when times were the toughest or when they wanted to help people (sometimes both). Some of us have been in indie films or on popular television shows. In pageants. Television anchors. Sold antique or vintage items (me and another cousin both). Girl Scout cookies. Wrapping paper for school fundraisers?

But…I don’t think over all the many years anyone has ever sold something intended to wipe a baby’s bottom after it poops. …And then amazingly bragged about that employment and tried to even use it dishonestly to make someone feel inferior.

Now, in my family, we’d not automatically judge people who have such a “position” in the world. No. *shaking head* And while I automatically suspected initially that my step-mother-in-law married my (older) father-in-law partially for his money I kept that opinion to myself. Why? Because I’m a real feminist. And I’m not about to shame another woman for just doing her best in a world that’s unjust to women in general. I might even think she’s greedy but I’d never assume that my father-in-law didn’t know what he was doing when he married her (unless given very sound reasons) and I’d never have painted her or her actions in such broad brushstrokes of black and white overall.

But…I’m not insecure. I’ve thankfully never been an insecure person. AND while I had one day in the middle of a fight when I briefly and distantly considered staying with my then boyfriend Mark for his money out of a sense of overall hopelessness about almost everything it’s never been my intent otherwise. I have stayed with him in the past because I made the choice to be a stay-at-home mom and transitioning away from that would take time financially so as not to cause chaos for everyone, but that’s certainly not the same thing. And I was trying to actually leave but then changed my mind about our relationship for unrelated reasons. It’s never been about the money for me.

No. And I’m truly sick of people projecting their own shit and lies and pain on me and in some cases my entire family. Stop. Stop. Stop.

Or don’t you know how to hear a no and respect it? Maybe that’s why some people hate “The Orange Man” so much? They’re reminded of themselves? *shrug*

But, I’m not orange either thankfully. More dark blonde…

Anyway. Just…stop. Ok? All of you. Stop.

Ferentina (Repost)

I’ve had this somewhat rare Caesar’s World Ferentina (Caesar’s World For Women 1994) for over a year without reviewing it until now. My husband casually bought it at an antique store last spring. And, while I smelled the bottle and sort of liked the fragrance a little I was too blinded by the stereotypes associated with the maker to investigate it at all quickly. Caesar’s World of Las Vegas, NV doesn’t exactly bring to mind all that’s particularly tasteful in regard to artistry, and I just wasn’t in the mood to bother doing more research yet… However, I’ve recently given it more of a chance and it’s actually quite enjoyable.

Ferentina, after whom the fragrance was named, was a mythical spirit of nature and water to the Romans and this fragrance is fairly aptly named. Cassis is bold and so are the other super-sized 1990’s florals (especially rose) but given the equally strong sandalwood, musk and amber at the base it becomes balanced and the overall effect is a pretty opulence. If I were to compare it to another fragrance I’d pick Cabotine de Grès in a heartbeat… Actually, imagine Cabotine under bright lights in sequin dress and you have Ferentina.

Top notes: marigold, orange blossom and cassis. Middle notes: cinnamon, rose, jasmine, and ylang ylang. Base notes: sandalwood, musk and amber.

Ombré Rose (Repost)

Perhaps it’s the elegant use of rose and aldehydes but regardless, Ombré Rose (Jean-Charles Brosseau 1981) reminds me quite a lot of Chanel No. 22 at the start. Then a woody, vanillic, smoky warmth emerges that sizzles gorgeously without inhibition and yet with a lot of powdery whimsy too. This is a definite rose scent but the accompanying sandalwood, vetiver, rosewood, lily-of-the-valley and really all of the masterfully blended notes are far from out-shadowed by the dominant rose.

Top notes: Brazilian rosewood, peach, geranium, and aldehydes.   Middle notes: sandalwood, orris root, vetiver, ylang ylang, lily-of-the-valley, cedar and rose.  Base notes: honey, iris, tonka bean, cinnamon, musk, vanilla, and heliotrope. 

Nose: Françoise Caron 

Nasty (rant)

I have in-laws who don’t like me. But they’re also the sort of people who probably wouldn’t have been keen on almost any young lady who tried to marry my husband. Nobody was ever going to be good enough. My step-mother-in-law even told me once about how weird my husband’s ex was because (she was watching her from a window in their lake-house) the ex-girlfriend picked a bouquet of wild flowers around the property and then neglected to give them to her as a gift; instead throwing them on the ground outside before returning.

When I first met my in-laws I worked at Macy’s and had met my husband the year before while working at a coffee shop. They were appalled. Despite whatever I told them about myself they were convinced I was a sort of “cheap floozie” since I hadn’t finished college or started my career yet and was still working at “peasant jobs” like coffee shops and Macy’s while sleeping with their son and living at his apartment. Oh! And because he’d taken me on vacations.

Actually, when my husband did try to tell them about my real background they either ignored it and whatever other evidence provided (my father-in-law), decided I was lying or as my step-mother-in-law did they accused my entire family of being criminals and thieves with other people’s money. (?) Nothing could be further from the truth and the amount of righteous indignation I felt and still feel about her narcissistic accusations is sometimes overwhelming.

But oh no, nobody could have actually made their money through intelligence and hard work in my family. (For generations) Her firm belief was that her step-son was the brilliant one in the relationship and I could not possibly be anything more than a blonde bubble-head after his money. And so my entire family had to be fit into that version of reality or she would have insisted I was an alien from outer-space raised on a spaceship. (Maybe someday that won’t even be hyperbole the way things are going.) …Well, or the money we have in our family was due to sheer dumb luck. Cheap class. …She and her failed first marriage, Tennessee state school degree and career as a baby-wipe saleswoman before marrying my financier father-in-law (almost a decade her senior). But they were superior in her mind. Yes. Superior to- Never-mind. I’ve already told you about all of that. At least somewhat.

We barely see them. And if they read this blog, and they’ve never admitted to that although I suspect they might, they probably genuinely hate me by now. Not that, again, anyone will openly admit to any of that, of course. We all pretend to get along for the sake of my husband and my kids. At least I do it for that reason.

The thing is, objectively, my family is actually above them socio-economically overall. And nobody in the family is a criminal of course and I’m not a “floozie”. Ever have been… *rolling eye* Soo…could their unprovoked attack over the last ten years be covering up for insecurity??? God only knows.

But…my in-laws are truly wealthy. Not as wealthy as some people. They have an expensive lake house and a home worth over a million to start… But on the other hand I have a very genuinely humble, keenly intelligent and extremely hard-working uncle who built a lovely $3 million house and basically gave it away to one of his kids after his wife died. (Yes. I’m angry so I had to get that in. *smile*) But really, my in-laws are definitely wealthy. And they’re the sort who like to have all the trappings that announce that fact to others. The right clothes, cars, clubs, houses, friends, schools, events, beliefs, servants, food…travel…etc. Etc.

They’re agnostic, if not atheists, and fairly liberal socially (of course). My father-in-law hates Donald Trump. Passionately. And so (again) it’s odd how they felt the need to start “slut-shaming” me for being with their son before we were married (we lived together) and drew huge self-serving conclusions about me before they knew me almost at all. Quickly made them. As in I played Monopoly badly at the Thanksgiving where my husband intended to introduce me to everyone and my father-in-law glared at me and decided I was mentally defective. My grandfather-in-law hates my handwriting and thinks it’s “illegible” (he’s said that) and I’m sure he uses that as proof he’s my ultimate superior too. Most people compliment my handwriting. *shrug* But…I mean…I worked as a barista so I guess that clinches it?? *shrug*

But they remind me of a lot of some of the people I met on Instagram who did indeed pretend to either be my (obvious duh *rolling eyes*) superior (there are a lot of superior people in the world today that I keep running into it seems?) but then used my exact words or ideas as their own because they actually secretly respected me…or the other folks who are so filled with blind hatred and rage that nothing can be said or done to convince them that every (genuinely) stupid idea that comforts them about me is not God’s ultimate truth. It’s impossible. *shrug*

Funny thing is, I have family now who maybe don’t believe my in-laws “exist”. I mean, they probably think they’re real humans, but I’ve told them numerous times about their wealth and status in polite ways over the years and yet they don’t seem to entirely believe it. *laughing* I try to explain what my father-in-law does and they seem less than impressed. And these are sometimes individual folks who aren’t as technically “impressive” as my in-laws and some who are, I guess… But no, regardless, I must be exaggerating about my in-laws or perhaps my father-in-law is some kind of glorified accountant? A fake, middle-class sort of low-level “CEO”? And my step-mother-in-law in all her country club, philanthropic glory is merely his shabby second wife with mental problems from the impoverished south. They do know how mean she’s been to me though… And that likely doesn’t help…

But…the truly funny thing is, if all of these people were to meet each other they’d likely all approve of each other and decide everyone was ” ok”. *huge cheesy grin* For example, some people in my family hate Donald Trump and some don’t. I’d bet the ones who hate him would find my father-in-law’s politics pleasant and he’d be charmed by their occasional blue blooded quirks and manners. And I’m sure my father-in-law would also be impressed enough by the others that’d he decide I’m not just a backward housewife from the Midwest who didn’t finish college. And perhaps those in my family who have doubted would decide he isn’t totally imaginary after all. And yet, foolishly, my husband and I didn’t have a wedding so we could avoid drama.

Why are people like that? Why does everybody want to alter reality so much? Deny reality. Deny anything threatening. And no, it’s not all dear Donny’s fault. That silly orange man. That silly man who isn’t President. Not really. Just on tv. Just on our cell phones. Just as long as the “smart guys” at the “smart pages” say he can be. Just until the end of the show. It’ll be over soon right?

Meanwhile, I’m hoping I’ll someday get along better with my in-laws. *sigh* Maybe that will never happen though, sadly. I’m also hoping people stop trying to silence me. Someday. It’d be nice. *shrug* Just because I’m not fooled easily or forever and just because I have a backbone and get tired of people’s nonsense and just because I’m both smart and pretty doesn’t mean I’m your problem. Is there even a problem other than ubiquitous denial these days?

And there I go.

Rose Trenches

One of our neighbors has told stories about helping to dig trenches for his uncle’s rose garden when he was a teenager. Years later our neighbor bought the property from the family estate after his uncle died. He then raised his own family there and the rose garden was replaced by grass for his children to play on.

That once rose garden of decades past is located on the land right next to our property to the north. My plan is to start a rose garden near there this spring. I’ll have lots of work to do. And, of course, part of that work will be digging trenches for the roses in the fall just like our neighbor’s uncle once did.

So, for the sake of trying to understand what it is to dig a Minnesota rose trench, because it’s not a quick endeavor, I visited the iconic rose garden right next to Lake Harriet this weekend; a sizable lake but a lake so currently frozen that many people were out on the ice. Someone was even riding a bicycle.

Anyway, the thing is, we’re in zone 4 here and given that we regularly reach way below zero degrees Fahrenheit every winter for at least a few weeks it’s unsafe to leave even the heartiest varieties of roses to their own devices in the winter months. You have to protect them by building trenches. (See above) Thankfully though, after my research this weekend I suspect I’ll be able to pull it off come autumn.

The Elizabeth Taylor Hybrid Tea Rose, Doris Day Floribunda Rose, and Mr. Lincoln Hybrid Tea Rose are a few of the initial zone 4 rose choices I like. I might buy two of all three? And I’ll obviously keep the antique peonies and many of the other flowers that already exist on our grounds along with the roses. We also have plans to grow raspberries (a gift from our neighbors) as well. Actually, if we don’t move in a few years we might even build an orangery addition to the kitchen.

But regardless, I’m for certain going to try my hand at roses this year. Definitely! And I’m much less scared now that I’ve seen a trench up close. We’ll see how it goes…

Here’s a photo my mother has of me in the same rose garden when I was 17. That was a very lovely coral colored rose on a very hot day in July…